The Execution of Christine Daae de Chagny
by Crimson Siyrean
Summary: Raoul is dead, Christine convicted of the murder, the perfect plan gone wrong...rna short three chapter story, originally meant for the contest over on PFN
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:I disclaim!

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**The Execution of Christine Daae de Chagny**

"_Guilty"_, read the tearstained headline. Mme. Christine Daae de Chagny was found guilty of the murder of the Vicomte de Chagny and she was to be executed the following evening. All of Paris was in an uproar. The trail had been a spectacle, the defense a joke. It seemed the entire of society had been out for the young Christine's blood. They had not forgiven the newly wed diva for stealing their precious Vicomte with her seduction and skills.

Meg set the paper down to dry her eyes. The truth was, no one knew what had happened on that fateful night and Christine wasn't speaking. She made no effort to defend herself; remaining silent since the night she was found covered in blood, standing over his lifeless body with the incriminating knife in hand. What more evidence did the prosecution need? The girl was obviously unhinged, as indicated by her silence. She had been married only a mere six months, to a man greatly above her station, they needn't look far to find a plausible motive.

"Maman, it can't be true, can it? They wouldn't execute her, not when she hasn't even given her side of the story. They must know there has to be more to this!"

Meg only felt her mothers comforting hand lightly squeeze her hunched shoulder. The older woman's gaze rested mournfully on the rain covered window, looking out into the city. The streets looked as empty as she felt, only faintly visible through the down pour of rain. Tonight, she lost a daughter and nothing of the comfort home could give would make her feel any more alive than that forlorn girl, sitting in quite introspection within a Paris jail cell. Tonight she feared the consequences of hope and knew not to ask for it.

Meg looked up awkwardly, just barely finding the courage to ask, "_He_ won't let this happen, will he?"

Her mother closed her eyes and left the room, without another look back. The absence of her presence left no mark on Meg and she retuned her attention to the paper, knowing she had overstepped her bounds. It couldn't be helped; she had to hope that there _was_ still hope, no matter what form it came in.

The rain continued and the night grew short. There wasn't much time.

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A/N: well this is the first of three chapters, each will be longer than the last. i suppose i should mention that i was planning to take a break on paris after midnight. i mentioned that over on PFN ( alot of us fic writers congregate over in the art section. we were having a morbid writing contest so i've got two stories entered in that (horribly rushed and not up to my standards, they will be revamped before posted here) so i was concentraiting on that... or ment to and ended up just playing warcraft. anyways i was gonna submit this one to the comp. but decided it would be too long (see proof that the chapters will be longer). ok, i'll stop rambling now.

oh, please R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** ok i'm finally finishing this one... finally... it's only been... 2 years... _

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The girl sat in a small cold cell. The stones perspired while the flooring reeked of mildew and decay. Christine's hands clasped the small barred window, her only source of light, which looked over the courtyard. A small gibbet could be seen in the distance, it's rope already hung at the ready, eyeing her as closely as she eyed it. 

"Is it time?" she asked. Her eyes left the window only once to glance over her shoulder. "It is not yet morning. For some reason I thought you would come for me in the morning."

The figure stood in the black just outside of the cell. It neither moved nor spoke; its shuddering breath was the only true indication that it was indeed alive.

"I'm ready," she said with the smallest hint of a smile upon her lips. The clouds parted, coaxing the silver light of the moon to dance across the cells floor. Visible tears hung with pearly light upon her bloodless cheeks. Slowly her knees gave way and she slipped to the ground in one smooth, languid movement. "I'm ready," she again whispered to no one but herself.

"Christine."

The girl looked up and saw that Phantom of her darkest dreams standing over her. A ghost unfurled from the blackened walls reaching out, holding a handkerchief for her use. Christine laughed quietly, dabbing her eyes with the proffered tiny object. "You came."

"I did."

She glanced back to the window, spying the full moon just out of her grasp. "I did it, you know. I really did it. It was my fault, all my fault." Her words came quietly, barely above a whisper while he stood there motionless, as though afraid to scare off a small animal. "At… at first, I told myself it was an accident, that I didn't mean to do it. I… I don't know anymore. There was so much blood… is there always much blood?"

The sound of a crows caw just outside the window briefly interrupted the silence. Neither paid it any mind.

"Christine, I am here to take you away." His hand stretched out to her. "Come, we must be quick about it."

She gave him the barest of smiles. "That's kind of you to offer, you were always kind to me… I never got the opportunity to thank you Erik. But no, I think I'll stay here. I wish to watch the sunrise you see."

Erik grabbed her roughly by the arm in an attempt to bring her to her feet. "We don't have time for this."

Pulling away with a cry she said, "I will scream if try to make me. The guards will be here in a minute, should I raise my voice. You don't understand. You don't! I can't go. I did it you see, I _did_ it!"

"This is madness"

"No, it's not! You don't understand, you just don't understand. He came to me. Raoul came to me last night! And it wasn't a dream. He stood in this very cell and he came to me! '_I'm sorry_,' he said. '_And I forgive you. I love you and I forgive you_.' He was an angel, Erik, a real angel. He was so _beautiful, _and he told me he loved me and that we would be together soon. _He forgave me_." Christine's head dropped and she began to cry in full earnest, her body quivering as she hid her head in her hands.

The Phantom crouched down beside the small girl. "Christine, Christine this was not your fault. It was mine." Her sobs did not flinch. "I set it up, I set it all up. _Don't you see?_ It's not your fault. I didn't mean for it to turn as it did, but it's still my fault. You didn't see what you thought you saw, didn't understand the full context…"

Christine slowly raised her head. "I forgive you Erik."

"No, don't! I don't want your forgiveness. I want to you leave this place. I don't care if you choose to flee from me, that doesn't matter. I want you to live, Christine. This was not your fault."

"He forgave me."

"It was a dream, a hallucination. Come with me now. We haven't much time. Christine, _please!_" The man stood up and wrapped his arms around the girl. Christine screamed but he paid no mind. "I will not let you die, not for me."

The sound of guards could be heard in the distance, and Christine's cries turned into a sob. "No, Erik please, no. They will shoot you if they see."

"I am not accustom to being seen."

"Please, no." she struggled forcefully in his arms, pushing and clawing in an attempt to escape. "Not you too. I couldn't bare it. Not for me." Again she screamed, kicking and thrashing as though her life depended on it.

"You there!" came a yell. "Release that girl!"

Two men came charging into the light. One stopped to pull out his gun while the other went to physically grab the Phantom. There was a struggle, the blast of gunshot, and a blinding flash. When the dust finally settled around the coughing guards, and their vision returned, it was as though the scene before them had never occurred.

The cells door was closed and locked. The mysterious masked man, in cape and fedora, vanished without a trace. And all that remained inside the closed dark space was the small girl clinging tightly to the bars of her window, tears trickling down her face with a luminescent glow and eyes gazing intently towards the tiny sunrise in the distance, just beyond the gallows.

Her lips parted slowly. "I'm sorry Erik," she breathed to the nights air and a few more tears released their selves from her lashes peaks.

"I'm sorry Erik," the first guard called sardonically to the next as they made their way back to their post. The second guard spit on the floor in response. "The only words anyone's heard her speak since they found her, over her husbands body all covered in blood. _Erik_. Who the bloody hell is Erik?"

"Little chit," the second replied. The two laughed as they made there way down the hall.

As the dawn broke over the city all of Paris was abuzz. This was the day La Vicomtess de Chagny would be hung.

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_**A/N:** there's one more chapter! please R&R_

_and yes there is an intended parallel... will explain in the end of next chapter._


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